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Chapter Text

Economics class was endless. Min-su was slump over his desk and scribbling in the margins of his notebook the design of a hypothetical mecha for his latest favorite video game. He was only half-listening but his notes were clean. He was one of those students who went unnoticed neither bad nor brilliant but just good enough to be forgotten.

The liberating bell broke the monotony. The students stood up in disarray, forming noisy groups. Min-su however slipped silently away. His lunch break was always the same. Alone sitting on a bench at the back of the courtyard. So he took out his phone and launched an episode of an anime series. Being completely isolated in his own little world.

Late that afternoon as he hurried through the almost empty hallways it happened. He was walking straight ahead , his gaze unfocused when he spotted Nam-gyu's silhouette in the distance , coming the other way. He was alone this time. And Minsu instinctively lowered his eyes.

But when they were only a few meters.. away a stupid impulse he couldn't explain pushed him to raise his head. To look straight ahead at Nam-gyu.

They crossed paths at a distance of a few centimeters. And during that brief passage their gazes met. Nam-gyu's dark and intense slid over him without any expression. Just an eye registering a familiar obstacle on the path.

Then when Min-su was almost past just about to catch his breath he felt it. A barely noticeable movement in his peripheral vision.

Nam-gyu had turned his head. Slightly. Just a tiny angle as if to visually follow Min-su for half a second too long.

And at that precise moment Min-su's heart leaped in his chest. Taking on a stuttering rhythm. It was like that. Always like that whenever Namgyu looked at him for even a second.

And after that he stared at the tips of his shoes again. the hallway in front of him. Not daring to turn around. But the weight of his gaze was now stuck in his head. Strongly.

*****
The school day then ended without any other notable incident. Min-su followed his schedule with the regularity of an automaton… physically present but mentally already home. When the final bell rang he was the first to leave the room eager to return to his home.

He then walked through the door of his house when he arrived home. His mother not here for now. Arrived the hallway he took off his shoes and put them away carefully, then headed to his room. He placed his heavy book bag at the foot of his desk, took off his jacket and hung it behind the door. His school supplies were placed in a disorderly pile on the work surface. He would deal with revision later perhaps.

A much more immediate and compulsive need was gnawing at him. He lay down on his bed and reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a pen.

A simple black ballpoint pen with small teeth on the body as if someone had been nervously chewing on it. Min-su brought it to his nostrils and inhaled deeply. The plastic smell was insipid but his mind overlaid it with the imaginary smell of the boy he had stolen it from by knocking over his bag two weeks ago. A mixture of laundry detergent and something wild.

Namgyu's mouth.

His saliva.

With his other hand, he slid his unlocked phone open.

A few quick taps and it displayed a photo. It was a blurry screenshot taken from another student's Instagram account. It showed a group at a party but Min-su had zoomed and cropped until only a face remained.

A face with high thin cheekbones. A chiseled jaw and almond-shaped eyes that even in this poor-quality shot seemed to pierce the screen with a disturbing intensity.

Pen still glued to his nose, eyes fixed on the screen. Min-su unbuttoned his jeans. His fingers closed around his penis, an immediate shiver running through his lower abdomen.

Small, muffled high-pitched moans escaped his lips. His toes curled in his socks twitching in time with his hip movements. His eyes usually so soft and shifty now narrowed. His dilated pupils drowning his gaze in an expression of intense and unhealthy pleasure.

in his head , the scene in the hallway replayed itself over and over again transformed and amplified.

They hadn't just passed by each other. In his mind Nam-gyu's gaze hadn't just brushed past him. It pierced him. He hadn't ignored him. He had undressed him from head to toe.

Min-su imagined that Nam-gyu had stopped dead turned around and that his eyes full of arousing disdain were focus on him. Looking at minsu masturbating on his bed.

And here Namgyu finally noticed him.

And all his attention was focused on Minsu.

… his breathing then became ragged his fist quickened on his cock. And his body stiffened like a rope stretched to breaking point before relaxing in a long and guilty shudder after ejaculating on the screen where Namgyu's digital face appeared.

The silence fell again. heavy. broken only by the whirring of his computer in standby mode.

Min-su lay there for a moment. his body still racked with shivers. Breathing on the pen. Then with a slight tremor in his fingershe wiped his stomach and the screen of his phone stained with his cum on Namgyu's pixelated face with a tissue lying under his pillow. He slowly got dressed. The feeling of guilt and post-orgasmic arousal making him dizzy.

But the gooning ritual wasn't over.

He stood up and put the pen away in a small box hidden at the bottom of a drawer , among other similar mementos. Then he sat down at his desk and turned on his computer. The fans whirred, illuminating the room with the blue light from the screen. He opened a folder carefully labeled Advanced Econometrics Project. Inside, another folder, encrypted, bore the simple name N.G.

He opened it. It was his collection. Dozens hundreds of photos , screenshots and screenshots of ephemeral stories.

Nam-gyu didn't post anything. he was a digital ghost. So Min-su tracked the traces left by others. His friends' accounts , university association pages , private groups he'd managed to gain access to with a fake profile.

His fingers ran over the keyboard with automatic habit. He scanned Instagram feeds , Snapchat stories, a university forum. He checked every name , every face in the background, looking for the strand of black hair , the piercing gaze , the arrogant stance. Just in case. Always just in case a new image , a new fragment of Nam-gyu's life would appear.

Tonight, nothing. No new captures to add to the collection. A hint of disappointment quickly stifled by routine. He synced the N.G. folder with his phone an automatic process that ensured his treasure was always with him. He closed the folder and played an MMO.

❦….
𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝐻𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠

𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑒𝑚𝑠 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝘩𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠. 𝑇𝘩𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑐𝑦 𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒 𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑧𝑦, 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑜 𝑝𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑡𝘩 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑓𝑡, 𝑠𝑜 𝑠𝑜𝑓𝑡.

𝐼 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑡𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑐𝘩𝑒𝑒𝑘, 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑡𝘩. 𝑇𝘩𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑠𝑛𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑒 𝑣𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑠, 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑚 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑝 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑒.

𝑊𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝘩𝑒 𝘩𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑠 𝑎 𝑝𝑒𝑛, 𝑡𝘩𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛, 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠... 𝐼 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑡. 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑚 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑒. 𝑂𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑐𝑘. 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒. 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝘩𝑖𝑚 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐𝘩 𝑚𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑢𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝑇𝑜 𝑟𝑢𝑛 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝘩𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑦 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛, 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝘩𝑖𝑚. 𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑒.

𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠, 𝑖𝑛 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑠, 𝐼 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑎𝑡 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝘩𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒. 𝑀𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑑. 𝐹𝑢𝑐𝑘, 𝐼'𝑚 𝑠𝑜 𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝘩𝑢𝑟𝑡𝑠.

𝐼 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑚 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑠𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑟, 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝘩𝑎𝑖𝑟, 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑠.

𝑇𝘩𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝘩𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑐𝑖𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑢𝑚𝑒.

𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑒.

𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛. 𝑇𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑚𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑠, 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝘩𝑖𝑚.

𝑎𝑛𝑑 … 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑠.

𝐻𝑒 𝘩𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑐𝘩 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑠.

𝑊𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝘩𝑒 𝑎𝑑𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑣𝑒, 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒, 𝑚𝑦 𝘩𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑝𝑠. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑐𝘩 𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒, 𝑠𝑜 𝑣𝑢𝑙𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒.

𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑛𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑠𝑒.

𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑚 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑤, 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝘩𝑖𝑚, 𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒.

𝐵𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑚𝑦 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑙, 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝘩𝑒 𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑠𝘩𝑒𝑑.

*******
Minsu had always wondered what had sealed his obsession with Nam-gyu. Was it the first time he'd seen him ? With that awfull personally but at same time so attractive ?

Was it his face- that cruel work of art that oscillated between chiseled masculine beauty and something more refined almost androgynous with his almond-shaped eyes and well-defined lips that seemed made only to twist in disdain?

Or was it simply that aura of danger that drew Min-su like a moth to a flame that would consume him?

The reason didn't matter.

The obsession was there.

Alive.

All-consuming.

And the next morning , his routine had a specific purpose.

To maximize his chances of encountering Nam-gyu , Minsu knew his schedule by heart. having reconstructed it after weeks of observation.

He took the longest hallway to math class, the one that ran near the room where Nam-gyu had philosophy.

He deliberately lingered in the cafeteria at 10:15, knowing that was the time when Nam-gyu and Thanos came to buy energy drinks. Subong was Namgyu friend’s who’s Minsu was sometimes jealous of bcs Namgyu seemed a little… too close to him.

But anyways fuck that man. His plan worked. He saw him three times. Each time, a flash of light in his gray day. Each time his heart raced and his fingers convulsively clenched the strap of his bag. Nam-gyu didn't even look at him.

To him Min-su was just part of the scenery. A boy who was too quiet and pathetic.

But the highlight of the day , the moment Min-su awaited with unhealthy anxiety , was the afternoon

Volleyball class.

Min-su hated sports. His chubby and uncoordinated body was an insult to any athletic grace.

But he had signed up for that class for one reason only.

Nam-gyu was there. It was the only time Nam-gyu was forced to acknowledge his existence.

The gym smelled of sweat and polished floors. Min-su already flushed and out of breath from the warm-up. Feeling Nam-gyu's gaze before he even heard it.

"Well, except for a walking disaster."

Nam-gyu drawled as he walked past him to reach his net. One of his teammates snickered.

"Are you sure you don't know how to make a header? You're like you're holding a slippery baby."

Min-su lowered his head, a rush of blood burning his cheeks. The humiliation was stinging in public. And yet deep inside him a vile spark ignited. He was talking to him.

He's looking at him.

Later during passing drills the teacher's put them in the same line.

Min-su's nightmare.

And also his greatest fantasy.

"Come on, pass it!"

Nam-gyu barked positioned right behind him to cover his mistakes looking exasperated.

The ball went straight to Min-su. He stiffly cuffed his arms. The ball hit his forearms and flew backward narrowly missing Nam-gyu's head.

Nam-gyu dodged just in time and let out an exasperated grunt.

"Damn look what you're doing man ! You're such fuckin a looser."

And then moved closer. so close that Min-su could feel his body heat and the scent of his deodorant. His dark gaze pierced him. filled with contempt so intense it was almost tangible.

But in Min-su's head. the contemptuous voice was transforming.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵, 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ? 𝘉𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵.

The humiliation turned into an immediate, shameful arousal. He felt a guilty heat invade his lower abdomen.

Nam-gyu completely ignoring the inner turmoil he was causing threw the ball at his ribs.

"Stay back and don't touch anything."

Then he returned to his position. turning his back on him.

Min-su stood frozen , his side where the ball had hit him, his body trembling. The day had been a success. He had been humiliated- belittled looked at.

That was all he needed.

❦….
𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠.

𝐴𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑠 𝘩𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑟, 𝐼 𝑔𝑜 𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑧𝑦.

𝑀𝑦 𝑔𝑎𝑧𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑔𝘩𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑎𝑟𝑐𝘩𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑡𝘩 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛, 𝑡𝘩𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑦 𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑡𝘩.

𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑒, 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒. 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑒. 𝐹𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑐𝘩 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒, 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑓𝑙𝑒𝑠𝘩 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦.

𝐿𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎 𝑝𝑢𝑟𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝘩𝑒'𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐𝘩𝑒𝑑, 𝑠𝑜𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑑.

𝑇𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝘩𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝘩𝑒 𝘩𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑡𝘩 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑔𝘩 𝑔𝑢𝑦 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑟.

𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡. 𝑇𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑐𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑖𝑛 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑜𝑟. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑚 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝘩𝑜 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑖𝑡. 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝘩𝑜 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑑𝑖𝑔 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝘩𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤, 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑡𝘩 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑠𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠. 𝑇𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝘩𝑖𝑚. 𝑇𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝘩𝑖𝑚 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑒.

𝐹𝑢𝑐𝑘, 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒 𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑑.

*******
Min-su was the next day sitting alone in the cafeteria at a distant table. Pretend to eat his meticulously prepared bento.

His real meal was the show taking place a few meters away.

Nam-gyu and his gang occupied their usual table. noisy and domineering. Seated in the center , Nam-gyu listened to one of his friends tell a story with an cold face. Suddenly as if to punctuate a joke , he ran a hand through his hair to tuck it behind his ear. A gesture Min-su had noticed Namgyu made repeatedly.

A banal gesture.

A gesture he must have made ten times a day.

But for Min-su it was a flash.

That casual movement made his stomach churn. An immediate guilty heat washed over him. so intense it took his breath away. Under the table his hand slid into his jeans pocket.

His fingers closed around the cold metal of Namgyu's lighter. Yet another stolen object from him.

He gripped it so tightly that the raised patterns marked his palm.

He couldn't touch himself here in the middle of everyone. But he could ritualize his desire. He pressed the object against his already hard cock through the rough fabric of his jeans , rubbing the metal with insistent pressure. Glassy-eyed. fixed on Namgyu's hand. He imagined it was Namgyu's hand touching him through his pocket. That the coldness of the metal was the coldness of his gaze.

He was hard in ten seconds aroused to the point of pain. simply by a gesture that wasn't even intended for him. A gesture seen from a distance. stolen like everything else.

Shame and excitement mingled into an intoxicating cocktail. Every small , discreet , guilty movement of his hips amplified the sensation. He bit the inside of his cheek to stifle a moan.

As Nam-gyu stood up to leave, Min-su took out his phone. Silent mode. no flash. He quickly framed the shot , capturing Nam-gyu's silhouette walking away. Another blurry screenshot. One more image to add to his collection before volleyball class. where he would once again face his contemptuous gaze.

and when the bell rang, he was sweating and shaking. He finally stood up, his legs wobbly, and headed for the locker room. In less than an hour he would be on the same court as Nam-gyu, subjected to his mockery, his contempt and his brutal punishments during drills. The very idea sent shivers down his spine.

Nam-gyu had disappeared down the hallway. Min-su watched him leave. his heart pounding. He took the lighter out of his pocket again. The metal was warm now. He surreptitiously raised it to his nostrils.

In his mind , it smelled of Nam-gyu. This thought followed him for the hour before volleyball class, an hour spent wandering the hallways.

Then came gym time. The session was a routine torture. mockery and contemptuous looks. balls thrown too hard in his direction. Min-su took it all in- his excitement growing with each humiliation.

When class ended , he rushed to the locker room. his body sweating and his mind on fire. The air in the locker room was thick with hot steam and the pungent smell of sweat. Min-su was hurrying. As always, to be the first dressed and leave before the others arrived. As he hurriedly put on his jeans , the shower door opened in a cloud of steam.

Nam-gyu stepped out. a simple towel wrapped around his waist. Droplets of water still beaded on his slim waist and arms. He walked over to his locker, which was by cruel misfortune ( or chance imo ) right next to Min-su's.

Min-su froze. his t-shirt halfway down. He felt Nam-gyu's passage as a disturbance in the air. He lowered his head. staring at the wet tiles. waiting for the storm to pass.

But Nam-gyu stopped. Min-su felt him standing there, motionless, less than a meter away.

The silence grew tense. broken only by the sound of a shower in the distance. Min-su driven by a force he didn't understand, looked up.

Nam-gyu wasn't looking at him. He was opening his locker. But a strange little smile. both embarrassed and vaguely satisfied c played on Min-su's lips. A smile he couldn't suppress. a nervous reflex betraying the chaos within him.

It was at that moment that Nam-gyu turned his head. His gaze swept Min-su from head to toe. then lingered on that incongruous smile. His own eyes, usually so cold and distant grew darker. more attentive. He said nothing. He didn't sneer.

He simply looked at him. And in that gaze, there was no longer simple disdain. There was a new glint and calculating curiosity.

Then he looked away and got dressed, ignoring Min-su again, but leaving behind a heavy silence.

❦….
𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑁𝑒𝑐𝑘.

𝐻𝑒 𝘩𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑘 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑙.

𝑊𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝘩𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝘩𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑, 𝑎 𝑓𝑒𝑤 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑖𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑒𝑎𝑟, 𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑝𝑎𝑙𝑒, 𝑠𝑜 𝑠𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑡𝘩.

𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑡.

𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑎 𝑝𝑢𝑟𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑢𝑖𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒.

𝑇𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑘 𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒.

𝑁𝑜 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑠 𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝐼 𝑑𝑜.

𝑁𝑜 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑠 𝘩𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑢𝑐𝘩 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑. 𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝐼 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝘩𝑖𝑚.

𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑡𝘩 𝑜𝑓 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑡𝘩.

𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑙, 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑥𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑙𝑎𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑟𝑦 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒 𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑧𝑦.

𝐼 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑑.

𝐼 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝘩𝑖𝑚.

𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒽𝒾𝓂.

*******
The next day, Min-su was at his desk- watching a deadly boring online economics lecture. The professor's monotonous voice echoed through Min-su's headphones but his mind was elsewhere. Far beyond market theories. On his split-screen monitor, next to the lecture window an encrypted folder was open. labeled N.G.

Tonight the routine was different. A sickening anticipation made his fingers tremble slightly as he placed his hand on the locked drawer of his desk. A discreet click and he pulled out not a pen or a notebook, but a small black velvet case. Inside a coiled like a snake. was his tie.

It was a silk tie. a deep black that almost absorbed the light.

The most precious trophy in his collection.

The one he'd stolen , his heart pounding , in the deserted locker room of the gym where Nam-gyu had carelessly left it lying on a bench.

Min-su took it out of its case. The silk was cold and smooth between his fingers. He brought it to his nostrils and inhaled deeply.

His mind immediately superimposed the scent he'd fantasized about.

A mixture of Nam-gyu's woody deodorant. The light, clean sweat on his neck… and that unique essence. that arrogance that seemed to exude from his skin. A guilty flush of heat immediately rose in his stomach.

But he wasn't satisfied with just smelling it.

It wasn't enough anymore.

With slowness he brought the long silk scarf to his mouth. He didn't bite it. He placed it delicately on his lips. as if for a kiss. Then his hands moving up behind his head. He tied the two ends and tightening the knot at the back of his skull with final firmness.

The gag was in place.

The fabric which had touched Nam-gyu's skin was now against his lips. slightly entering his mouth. He closed his eyes and imagining it was Nam-gyu's hand silencing him. suffocating him out of pure contempt.

Then, with a feverish hand he pulled down his pajama pants. He was already hard aroused by the very idea of ​​this ritual. He took the long end of the tie hanging across his chest and used it to masturbate himself wrapping the cold , provocative silk around his erect penis.

The sensation was strange. The friction wasn't gentle but rough and humiliating. Every movement of his hand and every scrape of the fabric against his sensitive skin, was a delicious degradation.

and then images flashed through his mind. Nam-gyu looking at him with the contempt he adored, repeating the same humiliations. But here , he was also controlled his desire.

The pressure of the fabric on his mouth became that of Nam-gyu's fingers. The silk around his cock was his grip.

His breaths became ragged. moans muffled by the silk gag. His body stiffened. his toes curled.

The wave rose irresistible and fueled by humiliation and the most twisted adoration.

He came with a violent spasm. stifling a cry into the fabric. his face buried in the pillow, which still smelled of the stolen scent of the sweatshirt.

When the last shivers had left him he remained motionless for a long moment , panting. The soiled and damp tie still tightly wrapped around his head and penis.

Simply stealing and smelling Nam-gyu's belongings was no longer enough. Now he had to incorporate them into his own fantasies.

He finally detached himself from his soiled trophy. looking at it with an unhealthy tenderness.

He then placed it with extreme care in its case. like a relic.

❦….
𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑠.

𝑇𝘩𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔, 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑐𝑙𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑗𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑠. 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑐𝘩 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑚 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑡𝘩 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑑𝑟𝑦. 𝐼 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑚 𝑜𝓃 𝓂𝑒 ,𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑒 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑟, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑝 𝑚𝑒. 𝑇𝑜 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑠𝘩 𝑚𝑒. 𝑇𝑜 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑒.

𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑏𝑟𝑢𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑠. 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑡𝘩𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑠 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑝 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝘩𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑚 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝐻𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑚𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼'𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝘩𝑖𝑚 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑒.

𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑡𝘩𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑠, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒. 𝑖𝑡 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛, 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛, 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑.

𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑡.

𝑁𝑜 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑. 𝑁𝑜 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑. 𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑡. 𝐼𝑛 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑛 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒, 𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑡𝑠.

𝐼 𝑠𝑎𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑜𝑓𝑓 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑑𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑔𝑦𝑚 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑠.

𝑃𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑡, 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑣𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑠.

𝐼 𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑑.

𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑦. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙.

𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑒𝑡, 𝑎𝑡 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡, 𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑠.

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑦 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑒. 𝑇𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟, ℎ𝑖𝑚.

𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒. 𝐼𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑡ℎ, 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑎𝑡, 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑠. 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑐𝑘.

𝐵𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑢𝑔.

𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑔.

𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑠𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑡ℎ 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑙𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝐼 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒.

*******
A few days had passed since the tie.

A change imperceptible to everyone except Min-su and apparently Nam-gyu. The atmosphere between them was no longer the same. Indifference had given way to a palpable tension an invisible thread where Nam-gyu seemed to have noticed that Min-su was more than just a pathetic intellectual.

It started in the hallways. Before, Nam-gyu had superbly ignored him.

Now, his gaze met Min-su's, furtively, but now with curiosity.

Then came the first ‘accident’. Min-su was leaving the library, his arms laden with books, his mind still clouded by economic theories. He was entering the crowded main hallway when a solid figure hit his shoulder with a force that was far from accidental. The books fell from his hands scattering on the floor with a dull thud.

"Sorry"

The voice was drawling. feigning nonchalance.

Min-su raised his head. Nam-gyu was standing there, looking down on him an ambiguous smile on his lips. He made no move to help him pick up.

"You always seem to be in my way"

he adde.more quietly.

Min-su's breath caught. It wasn't the pain in his shoulder that made him shudder or even nor the public humiliation. It was the proximity- the gaze that undressed him and …. those words.

As if he were a constant recognized presence in Nam-gyu's space. As if he belonged there. As if he were worthy of walking where Namgyu's pretty feet had walked.

A rush of blood rushed to his cheeks coloring them a bright pink. His eyes behind his glasses was shone with a wet sheen not from tears of sadness but from an intense and immediate excitement. He quickly lowered his head unable to hold that gaze any longer for fear that everything he felt would spill out.

And Nam-gyu didn't move immediately. He watched Min-su's reaction.

Then with a small, satisfied chuckle he stepped around the still-kneeling Min-su and continued on his way leaving him among his scattered books.

Min-su was now trembling and gathered his things. His heart was pounding. His shoulder where Nam-gyu had bumped into it, burned. He repeated the words in his head over and over again. Always in my way. It was the first time Nam-gyu had admitted, even in a derogatory way that he was seeing him.

Really.

And Min-su was more excited than he would have ever dared to admit.

❦….
𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑐𝘩.

𝑇𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑝 𝑜𝑓 𝑝𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑒𝑑𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑗𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑜𝑓 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑡-𝑠𝘩𝑖𝑟𝑡.

𝑊𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝘩𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟, 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝘩𝑖𝑟𝑡 𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑠 𝑢𝑝 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛.

𝑀𝑦 𝐺𝑜𝑑.

𝐼 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑦 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑡𝘩 𝑚𝑦 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐𝘩.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘩𝑖𝑚 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑒 𝑎 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑜𝑙, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑡 𝑔𝑜.

𝐼 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑡, 𝑠𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑠𝑜 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝘩𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑏𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒.

*******
The next day passed rather quietly. He did his usual little observation ritual with Namgyu.

But Min-su also knew that on Thursday nights Nam-gyu had volleyball practice. It was an unchanging ritual noted in the mental schedule he had patiently created. That evening as darkness began to fall he didn't head home this time.

Instead he slipped behind the science building where a hedge of thick and unkempt bushes offered a stunning and hidden view of the outdoor volleyball court. The grass was damp with dew, soaking the hem of his jeans. He crouched down, making himself as small as possible. his heart beating at a rapid pace.

On the other side of the fence under the floodlights that had just come on, Nam-gyu was warming up with his team.

Min-su held his breath.

He watched him run. his movements smooth and powerful exploding toward the net for a smash. He watched him jump, his body tensing like a bow. a perfect skinny silhouette cut out in the harsh light. He watched him laugh, high-fiving a teammate, white and bright. a sound Min-su could only hear from a great distance but imagined was deep and warm.

The exertion made his skin shine. Sweat beaded on his temples, on his arms and most importantly it made his black shirt stick to his torso. Min-su could almost trace every muscle, every contour of his abdomen through the damp.

Then during a break, Nam-gyu wearily grabbed the bottom of his tank top and quickly removed it using it to mop his face and neck before tossing it carelessly onto a bench

And there, under the spotlight, his torso was exposed. Broad, chiseled by exercise, glistening with sweat. His flat stomach, his very light pecs but still noticeable under his eyes and the line that ran beneath his gym shorts... It was a sculpture of flesh and dice.

It was too much for Min-su.

Breathless, his head buzzing. he felt an immediate and violent heat ignite his lower abdomen. Without thinking and driven by an impulse stronger than shame or the fear of being discovered, he unbuttoned his jeans with a trembling hand

He masturbated there, in the cold, damp shadows, crouching like an animal and watching Nam-gyu like a voyeur. Every movement the athlete made on the field was a caress from a distance. Every drop of sweat that trickled down his torso was a burn on Min-su's skin. Every laugh. every loud voice that reached him muffled was so exciting for him.

He accelerated his movement his hand feverish. his teeth clenched to avoid making a noise. His eyes never left Nam-gyu, drinking in every detail- every expression- He was in a trance. completely possessed by the image of that body in motion. that cruel and unattainable beauty.

When Nam-gyu finally scored a decisive point, he just take back all his stuff and leave. And then, the party was over. For Namgyu and minsu.

❦….
𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑡ℎ. 𝐹𝑢𝑐𝑘, ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑡ℎ. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑒𝑙, 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦'𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑠 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤, 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑎 𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠. 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑒 𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑔𝑜 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑…

𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑒.

𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑡, 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑘, 𝑤𝑒𝑡 𝑝𝑎𝑡𝑐𝘩 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑐𝑙𝑒 𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑡 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠. 𝑆𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑝. 𝐶𝑟𝑢𝑒𝑙. 𝐼𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦. 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠, 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑚, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑚 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑡 𝑛𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡, 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝘩𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑐𝑘, 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑜𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑘.

𝐼 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑒. 𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑡𝘩. 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒. 𝐼𝑡𝑠 𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔𝘩, 𝑤𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑢𝑝 𝑚𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑐𝘩, 𝑑𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝑛𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑙, 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑖𝑛𝑐𝘩 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑓 𝐼 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑓𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑑.

𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑖𝑡, 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑑, 𝑏𝑒𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑎𝑟. 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝘩𝑖𝑚 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑎 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑐𝘩𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑒. 𝑇𝑜 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑖𝑡. 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑐𝘩 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑙.

𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝘩𝑖𝑚 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒 𝑤𝘩𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝘩𝑒 𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒, 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑝𝑦 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝘩𝑎𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑥𝑐𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑒.

𝑇𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑡𝑜𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑖𝑡.

******
There was also that afternoon when Nam-gyu dropped one of his notebooks right where Min-su usually passed. He walked away without looking back,

a smile on his face.

A few minutes later, as expected, Min-su appeared. He saw the notebook, recognized the handwriting, and his heart leaped. He glanced around nervously before bending down and picking it up. He clutched it to his chest like a treasure before rushing to the bathroom, his face burning.

That night in his room Min-su wasn't in front of his computer. Nam-gyu's notebook lay open on his bed. With a hand trembling with an almost religious excitement, he tore out a page at random. It was covered in angry handwriting - messy lecture notes and scribbles in the margins.

And Minsu lay down. crumpling the page in one hand and unzipping his jeans with the other. He didn't even need to close his eyes. Simply inhaling the scent of the paper and feeling the rustle beneath his fingers was enough.

sonin a gesture both possessive and desperate, he wrapped the stolen sheet around his penis. Like a part of Nam-gyu was there with him. His pleasure was swift, brutal, almost violent.

He jerked off his hand clenched around the paper encasing his cock. the rough friction adding to the intensity.

As he came , he crushed the paper against his face. muffling his cry in the soiled page. He lay there afterward. his body trembling. the crumpled and damp sheet pressed against his heart.

❦….
𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑟𝑜𝑎𝑡.

𝑇𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝑎𝑢𝑡 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝐴𝑑𝑎𝑚'𝑠 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝘩𝑒 𝑠𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑠. 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑐𝘩 𝑖𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠. 𝑊𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝘩𝑒 𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑠 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝘩𝑒𝑎𝑑, 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑠, 𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑑, 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑐𝘩𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑗𝑎𝑤. 𝑇𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑗𝑎𝑤 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝘩𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝘩𝑒'𝑠 𝑢𝑝𝑠𝑒𝑡. 𝐼 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑡𝘩 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑎 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑝𝑜𝑛. 𝐴 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑝𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑘, 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑝𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝐼 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑟𝑜𝑎𝑡. 𝐹𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝐴𝑑𝑎𝑚'𝑠 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑡𝘩. 𝑇𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑢𝑝 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑗𝑎𝑤, 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑑, 𝑠𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑝 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒. 𝐹𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑡𝘩 𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝘩 𝑎𝑠 𝐼 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒.

𝐻𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑚𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑗𝑎𝑤. 𝐵𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝐼 𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑑. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑔. 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝘩𝑖𝑚 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐵𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑖𝑡. 𝐸𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙.

********
The next day had been strangely quiet. Nam-gyu hadn't looked at him once. not even jostled him in the hallways. This silence was far more distressing than all the provocations. Min-su felt a trap closing in without seeing its outlines.

As he was putting away his things at the end of the last class, a hand fell heavily on his shoulder. pinning him to the spot. The contact was hot and crushing. He didn't need to turn around to know whose hand it was.

"You."

Nam-gyu's voice was low- devoid of any intonation.

"The locker rooms. In five minutes. When everyone has left."

It wasn't a question. It was an order. The hand withdrew, leaving an imprint of heat and fear on Min-su's shoulder. When he finally dared to turn his head Nam-gyu was already gone having disappeared into the stream of students.

Min-su stood frozen his blood running cold. This was the trap. And he knew with certainty that he was about to jump into it headfirst.

Later, the locker room was empty and eerie, lit only by the crackling fluorescent light. The air was humid and thick with the smell of cold sweat and disinfectant. Min-su stood in the middle of the room. trembling like a leaf. waiting for Namgyu.

The door creaked open. Nam-gyu entered. his dark gaze sweeping the room before settling on him.

He looked different.

More determined.

He advanced slowly until he was standing right next to Min-su.

And then wordlessly- he took his phone out of his pocket. He slid the screen open and held it up in front of Min-su's face. It was a screenshot of a private Instagram account. a fake profile Min-su used to follow Nam-gyu's friends and save photos. The username, Yuna_1.25, was a detail only he could understand.

"That..."

Nam-gyu whispered, his voice a dangerous thread in the silence.

"It's you, isn't it?"

Min-su wanted to deny it. but the words died in his throat. He was paralyzed. hypnotized by the dark gaze piercing him.

"So?"

Nam-gyu insisted. his voice harder while brandishing his phone.

"It's you? You're just a shitty little stalker, aren't you?"

He didn't know how Namgyu had gotten this information. But right now, that wasn't the problem.

Shocked, ashamed, and visceral fear, the only possible truth escaped him in a barely audible whisper.

"...Yes."

❦….
𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑡.

𝑇𝘩𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑤 𝘩𝑖𝑝𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑒𝑚𝑝𝘩𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑧𝑒𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟 𝘩𝑢𝑔𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑦 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑣𝑒, 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝘩𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑏𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑡𝘩 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑎𝑖𝑟.

𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙. 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑟𝑑 𝘩𝑜𝑙𝑒 𝘩𝑒 𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑠. 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑠𝑒 𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑡. 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑙 𝑏𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛.

𝑊𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝘩𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑠, 𝑡𝘩𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝘩𝑖𝑝𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑒𝑙 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑒. 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑐𝘩 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑚 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝘩𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑜𝑔. 𝐼 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑦 𝘩𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑣𝑒, 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑡𝘩 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑠. 𝑀𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝑜𝑜-𝑛𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑤 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑡, 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔𝘩 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑐.

𝐵𝑢𝑡... 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑡.

𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝘩𝑢𝑔𝑠 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑡...

𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝘩𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝘩𝑒 𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑠.

𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑤𝘩𝑖𝑐𝘩 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑠.

𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑟𝑑.

𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑤 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑑.

𝑇𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑦.

𝐼 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑡.

𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑓𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝘩𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑢𝑠𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑖𝑡 𝘩𝑖𝑚𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓.

𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝘩𝑖𝑚 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑟𝑎𝑝 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑡.

𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝘩𝑖𝑚 𝑡𝑜 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑖𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝘩𝑖𝑚, 𝑠𝑜 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛.

𝑆𝑜 𝘩𝑒'𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐼 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝘩𝑒, 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐼 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐𝘩, 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐼 𝑠𝑒𝑒.

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦.